


magnum opus

by myn_x



Series: SASO 2017 Bonus Round Fills [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Model!Ushijima, Nudity, Painter!Oikawa, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myn_x/pseuds/myn_x
Summary: That the stupid, measly swath of material still managed to cover as much as it did was a cardinalsin.





	magnum opus

**Author's Note:**

> for a saso br 5 prompt that was too hard to resist --> [x](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24808.html?thread=15443688#cmt15443688)

The studio was silent, save for the flick of Tooru's brush against the canvas.

Tooru pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with stained fingers, disturbing the quiet with a frustrated huff. He'd been commissioned to paint plenty of masterpieces before, with and without models, but his latest nude project was proving to be infuriatingly problematic.

He was Tooru's ideal subject, with the body only a god could achieve: tall and lean, with broad shoulders, arms corded with muscle, defined abs, and his _legs_...Tooru stood transfixed as he'd settled into a reclining pose on the royal purple chaise lounge in the center of the studio. His oiled skin seemed to shimmer under the soft lamplight, amplifying his divine aura.

Then there was his impassive face. Dark hair, strong brow, piercing eyes -- even ignoring the rest of his body, which was quite the impossible feat, he was intensely Tooru's type, beyond what was purely aesthetic. Tooru found his gaze lingering a few moments too long, his attraction to the model warring with his professionalism as he attempted to capture his stoic beauty on canvas.

Contrary to what he wanted others to believe, Tooru didn't believe in perfection because it wasn't something tangible, but this man made Tooru's fingers itch for sculpting clay. More than that though, was a desire to get closer and to touch, to skim his fingers over the dip and swell of his muscles, just to make sure he was real.

Yes, he was perfect. Flawless. Made to be adored. Even his blasé attitude bespoke a certain amount of experience with being looked at and appreciated. Or maybe he just didn't care that he was naked save for the gold cloth artfully spread over his groin, and maybe what was bothering Tooru so much was that this wasn't a truly nude sitting.

Tooru was tempted to correct it on the canvas with a few quick strokes of his brush, but his policy of showing his models the finished product, as well as his fear of ruining the painting held him in check. And the commissioner had been specific; Tooru couldn't just ask him to remove the stupid cloth so he could do the model the justice he believed he deserved.

Tooru told himself his frustration had nothing to do with wanting an excuse to see everything. That the stupid, measly swath of material still managed to cover as much as it did was a cardinal _sin._

Beyond Tooru's discomfort, though, was the bitter taste of old self-doubt. Tooru looked from the canvas to his model; it was unsettling, the way he couldn't quite capture the power that emanated from his figure, even in repose. Tooru's streak of perfectionism ran deep, but the model's inhuman beauty more than outpaced him. It left him breathless.

Tooru's displeased grumble caught the man's attention. He must have been as equally committed to the task as Tooru was, for he remained silent and still, only his eyes shifting to Tooru. Concern softened his dark gaze.

Tooru cocked his head at the question in his eyes, surprised at how easy it was to read him. Must be the result of staring at him for two hours. "It's nothing, really. Ushiwaka, was it? I'm just not used to hating models who sit for me."

That startled him into opening his mouth, which he shut abruptly, his eyes returning to their original position somewhere to Tooru's left. One eyebrow twitched, as if he were trying not to frown.

Tooru preferred to think that his words, rather than the model's commitment to the job, had left him speechless. "It's a few minutes early, but you can go ahead and take your break because," he said, his lips curling into a mirthless grin as he lied through his teeth, "I need to look at something other than you for the time being."

He turned away to set aside his palette and brushes, making space for them on his work table, which was strewn with half-finished sketches, an array of studies, anatomy books opened to random pages, crushed tubes of paint -- the assorted detritus of his trade. He shuffled through some of it, putting to order what he could where he couldn't when it came to his thoughts.

Gentle throat clearing behind him made him pause.

Tooru looked over his shoulder and quirked his brow in reply, only half-surprised that the model was still on the chaise lounge -- though he had sat up straight -- idly fidgeting with the fabric in his lap. It looked tiny in his hands, leaving only just enough to the imagination to drive Tooru crazy, like one wrong move and--

"I'm not sure that I've done anything to warrant your hatred, Oikawa, but I apologize nonetheless. And my name is Ushijima. I am not...fond of the name you used."

Tooru faced him as he spoke, his palm flat on the table behind him for support. His voice was lower and deeper than it had any right to be. He’d uttered hardly more than a curt greeting when he arrived and confirmed that he was here for the sitting, and now Tooru found himself hanging on every measured word, his gaze stuck on the gentle curves of his lips.

"Noted." Tooru looked away and bit the inside of his cheek. He had never been good at names, especially when it came to people he barely knew. That, and the sincerity of Ushijima's apology, only incensed him further. He felt like a jerk, ogling the man one second and snapping at him the next, all when he was only doing his job.

"How much longer until we continue? I do not want to have to undress again."

"It's just a short break," Tooru blurted, regretting his decision to stop. "There's no need for you to get dressed just yet." _Yes, stay naked. And move that wretched cloth, while you're at it. Please._

Tooru felt a decidedly unprofessional blush spread across his cheeks. He cleared his throat and continued. "I have a robe that might fit you, if you want that." It was the closest to an apology that he could manage.

Ushijima looked relieved. "I, err, please, if you would."

Tooru rummaged in the supply closet until he found the spare robe he kept but never had a use for until now. He was not used to modesty in his models.

As Tooru handed the garment over, he murmured, "I hope we aren't enemies."

"I was wondering if I was the only one who thought so," Ushijima quipped with a pointed look before taking the robe, pausing at its silkiness. "This has been a pleasurable experience so far."

 _Pleasurable_. Surely he was aware of what his choice of words were doing to Tooru, as well as the expanse of chest that the "robe" left exposed. It looked skimpy on him, and didn't cover much more than the cloth had. _Pleasurable_. "Oh?"

"Watching you paint, I cannot picture you doing anything else. Do you enjoy it?"

Tooru smirked, his cheeks warming again at the thought of Ushijima being just as aware of him as he was of Ushijima. "I wouldn't do it nearly every day if I didn't."

"I see." Ushijima gestured to the easel. "May I?"

"Sorry, I don't usually show anyone my works in progress." For the first time, Tooru felt uneasy at the prospect of letting someone else see this particular work. He wondered if Ushijima would be able to read the reverence in every brush stroke.

Ushijima's lips tugged up into a small smile as he nodded in understanding, and Tooru held himself back from reaching for paper and something, anything with which to draw.

Tidying his work table was almost distracting enough. Tooru watched from the corner of his eye as Ushijima got up and stretched, then wandered around the studio to look at Tooru's art where it hung or was propped up, some one of which -- including his favorite personal work, a floor to ceiling tangle of hanging ivy -- he had painted directly onto the wall, and Ushijima traced his fingers over them, his hand hovering just slightly over the leafy mural.

They didn't speak again until Ushijima asked him for water and afterward, when Tooru showed him to the bathroom. Tooru studiously kept his eyes above Ushijima’s shoulders, as the robe barely covered him to mid-thigh.

By the time Ushijima returned, the desk was a little less messy and Tooru was a little more ready to continue. Cheeks ablaze, he looked away when Ushijima shrugged the robe off and reassumed his pose.

Tooru didn't stop until he was mostly satisfied with his work. He lost himself to the feel of the brush in his hand to avoid being distracted by Ushijima, looking up only periodically to make sure that the painting wasn't getting away from the subject.

He finally set the brush down and took a step away from the canvas so that both it and Ushijima were in his field of vision. From an objective standpoint, it was his best work. The painted Ushijima looked alive, somehow, like at any moment he might get up from his rest and walk off the canvas. Tooru momentarily contemplated telling the commissioner that the painting got ruined somehow and that he'd have to do another. No, he'd finished early enough that he might be able to get away with painting a duplicate, but since he didn't do shoddy work, that would require...

"I would sit for you every time, if I could, if only to see that look of concentration on your face while you work," Ushijima mused, interrupting his thoughts. "You sometimes stick your tongue out, like this." He poked his tongue out of the side of his mouth and pointed to it.

The image struck Tooru as absolutely ludicrous, this man, a work of art in his own right, splayed out practically naked with that stoic look on his face, mimicking what Tooru looked like when he painted.

It was incredibly endearing.

Tooru figured they'd both inhaled far too many paint fumes after so many hours.

 

~

 

"I hope this will suffice as an adequate apology for my rudeness," Tooru said evenly, once Ushijima had finished dressing. Then he stepped aside so that Ushijima could see the finished painting, his greatest work.  

The moment stretched out as Ushijima took himself in, eyes widening and breath hitching. Tooru was nervous, more nervous than he had ever been, showing someone his work, his confidence fragile as he found himself wanting to impress the other. He crossed his arms and waited. 

Finally, Ushijima spoke. "You are very talented, but this is not me." His expression was hard, his voice gruff with thinly veiled displeasure. "I am not this masterpiece you have created."

His reaction, the finality of his words were confusing. "You're not-- what-- Ushijima! I am only ever realistic when I paint! This is how you look! If you disagree then I have failed as an artist."

Ushijima's face softened, but he hadn't looked away from the canvas. "You wear glasses. Your vision is flawed."

Tooru put a hand to his chest at the offense. "One can't paint masterpieces with flawed vision, Ushijima!"

His eyes settled on Tooru, then, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. His cheeks were slightly pink, but he didn't try to hide it. "You think I am beautiful. I think you are mistaken, for I am not..." He couldn't seem to finish. There wasn't anymore heat behind his words, only a shyness that was at odds with Tooru's judgment of his character. He had marked him as confident, and conscious of his effect on other people. But he'd been wrong before. 

"Surely you know how attractive you are? Don't tell me that you, a painter's model, aren't aware of that, or that no one has ever told you."

Tooru thought Ushijima wasn't going to respond, until he said, quietly, "Most are only interested in my anatomy. But you've gone beyond that, somehow, and I am overwhelmed."

 _Oh, I am still very interested in your anatomy._ "Then let me paint you again," Tooru said. Pleaded, basically. "Any artist should feel privileged to have you as their muse. I'll prove it to you."

"You already have." Ushijima rubbed his nape. Tooru was already thinking of more comfortable poses to suggest. "Though I would like to sit for you again."

Tooru grinned wickedly. "Good, because I'm keeping this painting. So first, we'll have to do another to give to the commissioner."

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com) || [other tumblr](http://zeppellii.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovedeluxxxe)


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